The Birds and the Humans
by As-Long-As-I'm-Around
Summary: Meggie and Dustfinger's daughter, Fajra, has inherited both the love for fire and the love for books and imagination. So it is not surprising that when Meggie falls pregnant again, she's got some weird questions and theories about how the child came to be.


A/N

This was so fun to write. Let me know if you want another chapter with Dustfinger in it. You'll get why at the end of the story. I own none of the characters except Fajra.  
>Fajra: Esperanto name meaning "fiery."<em><br>x._

_x._

"Mother." Meggie, once known as Folchart who had worn that name proudly, glanced down into the same eyes as hers.

"Yes, Fajra?" Her head turned back to her book, and her voice was distant, as it often was when Meggie was torn between the world of reading, and the world of living.

The little girl rolled her eyes, well accustomed to the odd habits of both of her parents. She had, after all, inherited one of them. She whispered to her fingers, and on the tips danced out sparks of fire. Her mother jumped, slamming the book shut and moving it away.

"The Gods must have thought us silly to marry- a book lover and a fire lover," Meggie breathed out wearily, shaking her head before turning narrowed eyes to Fajra.

"Your lucky your father wasn't here to see you do that! You know how we feel about using that craft, 'Jra." The girl in question blinked huge eyes back innocently.

"Is it the same as he feels about you using yours?" Her mother scowled at her cheek, pushing the book further away.

"You are surely our daughter, for I'm sure no one else's would have the cheek that you do, at only seven years old. As for your inquiry, I was only reading. Harm only comes when I switch places and write. Besides, your father and I made a promise about that long ago. Ah, no. Not something that you need to worry about. Never mind all this. You were after something?"

The girl nodded, her eyes now becoming serious as they travelled down to Meggie's stomach, which was beginning to swell.

"I have a peculiar question."

"As with you, they always are." Meggie let out a sigh, but she was smiling.

"It's just-I have a love for books as you do...and I came across such a story that is in relation to you and your stomach," she inclined her head pointedly before meeting her mother's amused expression.

"Oh dear. You mention a story, and me. This does not bode well." For all the seriousness of her words, her tone was teasing, and Fajra found herself scowling.

"One day I'll get the answers to all these little comments, won't I, mother?" At this, a shadow passed over Meggie's face, making her seem older then she was.

"Perhaps. Some stories are left better alone, least we open them and invite more peril. What was the story you read?" She coaxed her daughter, her hand dropping to her stomach protectively.

"Well, I had read that these really big, weird birds bring babies. But that can't be the case, because one grows inside of you now. Unless, this bird came to you? But how would it get to your stomach? Did he or she feed it to you, in the way they feed their young? I imagine that would have been a disgusting task. But how did it not pass through the stomach and come out the other way? Don't look at me like that, mother! For all you say I'm my father's daughter, I am also yours."

And indeed, her mother was staring at her in such a manner that nerved the young seven year old. It was an expression of shock and amusement, and the mother found that, once she had overcome the shock, that she could not quite suppress the laughter. She put a hand over her mouth, but Fajra had heard, and was scowling at her, her offense plain to see on her beautiful face.

"Fine, go on and laugh at me! See if I ever come to ask you for knowledge!" Before she could flounce off in annoyance, her mother stopped her with a gentle touch, and Fajra reluctantly turned back around.

"I am sorry, my dear one. I did not mean to offend you. It's just-you surprised me, is all. When I was a kid and learning about this, I did not quite imagine it to be that way. And I will answer your question, if you can answer one of mine."

Fajra nodded, though her brows were pulled together in suspicion.

"Did you go to your father about this?" The young girl shook her head, her blonde curls flying. She really was a mixture of both her parents.

"I just read about it. Why would I go to him when you are the story teller?"

Another bout of amusement appeared on Meggie's face, which she tried to hide as best as she could.

"Mm, well then. My answer is to ask him. For I may be the story teller, but he is the teacher. He teaches you of his and your craft. Ask him to tell you this."

Fajra was confused as to why she had to go ask him, when her mother could tell her right now. She supposed there was something else in it, something mischievous. For even though she reprimanded her for being too much like her father, Fajra was often told that she had Meggie's streak of mischief in her too. It was always followed by,

"The kid never stood a chance." So the little girl rushed outdoors to go find her father, leaving her mother laughing quietly at her desk.


End file.
